


for the nights i can't remember

by ahyperactivehero (ahyperactiverhero)



Series: i never knew anybody til' i knew you [3]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Asphyxiation, Exorcism, H/C bingo, Hurt Crowley (Good Omens), Hurt/Comfort, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Ineffable Partners (Good Omens), M/M, Pre-Apocalypse, Pre-Slash, Protective Aziraphale (Good Omens), hurt/comfort bingo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-21
Updated: 2019-06-21
Packaged: 2020-05-15 21:29:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19304194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ahyperactiverhero/pseuds/ahyperactivehero
Summary: Crowley loses the coin flip with Aziraphale and has to go to small town to do both of their jobs. It seems like it's going great until a guy with a grudge against demons (and a hint from Hastur) decides that Crowley needs to be exorcised.(based on the h/c bingo I'm going on my tumblr)





	for the nights i can't remember

He was going to have to get better at the whole coin flip thing. If he didn’t know any better, he would’ve said that Aziraphale was cheating and forcing it to land on whatever he hoped it would. It was the only thing that truly made sense when one took into account that he had lost the last eight coin flips they’d done.

“You lost, fair and square,” Aziraphale said, shrugging. “This was your idea anyways.”

“I know,” Crowley said, more than a slight whine seeping into his tone. “I just thought that I’d actually get to _win_ sometimes and do less work.” He knocked over a small pile of Aziraphale’s books that were sitting on the desk. “Now I’m just doing twice the work for no reward.”

Aziraphale glared and him and ushered him away from the desk. “Yes, well evil never wins, does it?”

Crowley pulled a considering face. “Sometimes it does.”

The angel put his hands on Crowley’s back and helped push him out the door. “Well not this time it doesn’t,” he said smartly and shut the door. Before Crowley could even think of anything else to say he’d flipped the sign from open to close and pulled the blinds.

_“Angels,”_ Crowley said as though it were a curse. With a snort he took off towards the Bentley. He might as well get this over with then.

XXX

The good thing about the double job he’d accidentally given himself was that it was at least an easy one. All he had to do was stir up a bit of trouble in this small down and give a ‘blessing’ or two to some people.

The trouble part was easy. A few giant potholes in the road, a train that got stuck on the tracks, and a few well placed downed trees was enough to give any driver in the town enough trouble that they were cursing anything and anyone who would listen for at least the next three weeks.

It was always the ‘blessing’ part that was a bit more troublesome. If any angels or other demons were to see him actually _helping_ people then he’d be in big trouble. Demons didn’t even help each other in less they could somehow benefit from it, so there was no way they’d tolerate him helping humans out for free.

Not that that ever stopped him. He had made an agreement with Aziraphale and he intended to keep up his end of the bargain and make Aziraphale look good here.

At least with blessings he could focus on a specific person or family. That always made it easier for him, so that’s exactly what he did.

So while the rest of the town seemed to be having a week from Hell, there was one family who none of it seemed to have bothered. All of their paths to work were unaffected by the potholes, trains, and trees, as well as the children’s way to school. One of the children managed to break the living room window while playing outside, yet it was somehow fixed before mum or dad got home. The bag mum used to carry groceries in ripped, and yet not a single one of the glass bottles she’d been carrying broke. Dad slipped and fell and surely should’ve broken something, or at the very least sprained something, but instead had been able to jump up without so much as a scratch on him.

He sighed as he sat down at the pub in town. It had been a long week of making “miracles” and he couldn’t wait to get back to the city. The small town life was boring without someone to live it with.

The bell above the door rang, but Crowley barely registered it. He glanced at the menu, debating if he should order something sweet, the way Aziraphale usually did. While he wasn’t a huge fan of food (unlike Aziraphale who loved and found almost every food substance humans had ever created interesting) he did like the idea of being able to go back to Aziraphale and report back what the place had to offer. Maybe if there was something truly tasty there they could do the next job together and eat here.

A man slid into the chair across from him. He was middle aged and shaggy, the beard on his face not exactly well maintained. His hands were fidgeting in front of him as he tried to still them on the table.

“Can I help you?” Crowley asked, the annoyance clearly evident in his tone. Who was this human and why exactly did he think it was okay to just sit down at his table with him?

“Maybe,” the man said, his voice shaking. His nervous tone put Crowley on edge, but he knew that he was being ridiculous. There was nothing that the man could do to him, and even if he _did_ try to do something, Crowley could always just come back. It would take time, and paperwork, but he would eventually be back again.

“Well out with it, then,” Crowley said. “I don’t have all day.”

The man nodded his head and reached into bag he had hanging from his side. He pulled out a bottle filled with a clear substance and set it on the table between them. “This is Holy Water,” the man said. “I know what it does to people like you.”

Crowley blinked a few times in confusion. “I’m sorry. What?”

The man swallowed thickly, audibly. “Holy Water. Listen, I know that it’s probably listening to everything we say right now, but I need you to know that I’m going to help you.”

Crowley blinked again. “Yeah, I’m sorry again. What?”

The man glanced around the pub. It was basically empty, the only other people inside it being the worker and a couple sat at a table across the restaurant. He cupped his hands around his mouth and whispered, “The _demon._ ”

Part of Crowley tingled at “getting caught” by a human. Back in the days, before contacts and body modifications, humans were a lot more likely to catch on to him, even with his attempts of hiding his eyes or messing with their minds with magic. Nowadays the only real comments he received were from elderly humans who had a problem with the “punks” and that was only if something happened to his glasses.

“I think you’re a bit confused,” Crowley said. He attempted to keep his tone light, as if they were old friends sharing a joke together. “Demons aren’t real.”

The man shook his head, staring straight into his eyes. “I’ve seen it before with my own eyes. One of the bastards got my own son, there’s no way I’m gonna give up on the soul that’s in there.”

What demon was going around possessing humans lately? Could’ve been Hastur, he had always enjoyed messing with humans the most. Or maybe Mazan. She always did like to possess humans and lead them on wild goose chases.

“I think we’re done here,” Crowley said, standing up from the table. His job here was done for the most part anyways, and he’d soon be able to report back with Aziraphale and let him know exactly how well The Arrangement had worked out for them again. There was no need to try and convince this (correct) human that he was wrong.

It was a short walk to his car that was parked down the street. A few minutes worth of walking, a couple of hours driving and he’d be back to doing what he did best: annoying humans and Aziraphale.

But it seemed that someone else had other ideas. He raised his hand, ready to snap his fingers and start up The Bentley, when something smashed into the back of his head. His body twitched and then collapsed as if all of it’s strings had been cut. The last thing he saw before he passed out was the outline of the man from the pub telling him it was going to be okay.

XXXX  
It’s not like this was the first time Crowley had ever been knocked out by a human. Nor would it likely be his last.

It was the first time, however, he’d been knocked out a human and unable to move any part of himself once he woke up. It was like there was something wrapped around his arms and legs, holding him in place. His neck seemed too rubbery and his head felt like a bowling ball attached to the top of it, far too heavy for it to lift even an inch.

He groaned, and groaned again when the pain from his action radiated through his head. He was convinced that there had to be a giant crack right down the middle of his skull with his brains leaking out of his ears. That was the only way that it could hurt so badly.

“So you’re awake, are ya?” the man from the pub’s voice asked. It was foggy, as if it was being spoken through a wall or a million pillows.

Eventually, Crowley opened his eyes. He could see his own chest, his dark clothes a stark contrast to the chains that were currently wrapped around him. His wrists and forearms were also strung up, tied to the chair to prevent any sort of movement, and while he couldn’t see them, he imagined that his legs were much the same.

“What happened?” he asked, his words more than slightly slurred. 

 

“Sorry about hitting you,” the man said. “But I couldn’t let you leave. I was afraid that if you left the demon might get away.”

Great, so it was back to this again. Crowley groaned, finally managing to lift his head up a bit. When he did he was squinting (aka trying his best to glare) at the same man from the pub. He was leaning apprehensively against a desk, his whole body tense like a rabbit getting ready to run. 

Which wasn’t a bad idea. Because once Crowley was able to move again he was going to make this guy’s life a living Hell.

“So what, slamming me in the back of the head and chaining me up here somehow seemed like a better idea?” he asked, his tone bitter. He glanced down at the floor, taking in the scribbles and marks painted on to it. Sigils designed to lock demons away, to prevent them from doing anything like escaping or using their powers, were placed in a circle all around him. The paint still looked fresh in some places, something that the man had likely just completed before Crowley had woken up.

“You’ll understand once I get that demon out of ya,” he said. “You’ll be able to think clearly again and be free.”

Crowley wanted to roll his eyes at the man, but he didn’t feel like the was quite stable enough to do so just yet. The blow to the back of his head must’ve really sent him reeling for him to feel this bad.

“So how exactly do you plan to do that?” Crowley asked. “A few spells? Some chants? Oh no, let me guess, you know someone who knows someone who says that they can exorcise demons.”

The man frowned at him, finally standing up away from the table. He put his back to Crowley, shuffling items around on the desk until he found what he was looking for. It seemed to be like any old notebook, a little worn, but for the most part average.

“I told you before,” the man said, “that demons got my son. I learned everything I could about exorcising demons after that.” He flipped through the pages of the notebooks as if it were a cookbook that was helping him decide what to make for dinner and not some book filled with occult messages.

“Like how you can’t use Holy Water to get rid of them,” he said. “It burns you guys right up, but it also melts the person your possessing.”

Crowley felt a shiver go down his spine at the man’s words. It’s not that he didn’t know what Holy Water did to a demon, in fact he was rather well acquainted with it after some demons had run into some angels shortly after the Heavenly War, but it was something else to hear come from a human. Most humans thought of Holy Water and demons as a big smoke show and that was that. Most of them didn’t think of acid like qualities that it possessed.

It’s not like exorcisms didn’t happen, because they did. All the time, in fact, or at least they used to. But most exorcisms were performed by a church with people watching. And usually, the people they performed them on weren’t actually demons, but scared, mentally ill humans who weren’t equipped to deal with the torture of an exorcism.

So it was one thing to perform an exorcism on a demon possessing a human, and a whole other thing to do so on a full-fledged demon in his own “human” body. Especially if this man actually knew what he was talking about.

_Oh for Satan’s sake,_ Crowley thought, _why’d I have to lose that stupid coin flip?_

XXX

There were few things in the world that could distract Aziraphale from his books once he really got into them. There had been plenty of times where he had almost missed a summons from Heaven or forgotten to eat or drink (not that he strictly needed to, but he did rather enjoy it) or missed some important World Changing Event because he had had his nose shoved far too deep in a book.

One of the things that could distract him, however, was off doing the other things that could distract him. With both Crowley gone and his own job getting done by the demon, there really was nothing keeping him away from his books.

Aside from the strange feeling in the pit of his stomach, that is. 

It had started small, almost completely ignorable. A slight twinge of ‘wrongness’ here and there, but otherwise completely normal.

But the feeling grew over the next week until something suddenly changed. There was a strange shift in the air and then something was gone. It was like someone had turned off the background music to the room he was in or moved away a fan that had been blowing in his face. It wasn’t worrying, not exactly, but it was enough to be noticable.

He tried to place what it was he had been feeling, what constant thing was always running in the back of his mind. It wasn’t his connection to Heaven, as he was pretty sure that would feel a lot sharper, a lot more distinct to lose, but it was something close to it. Something that had been around for nearly as long…

He glanced around the room, his eyes landing on the couch that Crowley usually rested on and suddenly the feeling made sense. It was _Crowley_ he was sensing, that strange sort of connection they shared as occult and ethereal beings that tied them together.

Except he wasn’t feeling him. It was like he had left the Earth and maybe went back to Hell and left a sudden blank spot on the world in the process. It’s not like it was the first time he’d felt it, as Crowley does actually have to make reports in person sometimes, but this time just felt different. There had been no gradual fade, nothing to suggest that he had gone to Hell and popped right back up. 

No, something about this time upset him.

He tried to ignore it and to at least rationalize with himself. Crowley was probably just reporting in on the job he’d done. Or maybe he’d been called back to Hell, which shouldn’t worry Aziraphale nearly as much as it did due to the fact that Crowley is a demon. There were at least a dozen more things that he could think of that might require the demon to skiddaddle off of the Earth for a little while, but he still couldn’t convince himself of that.

It had only been a week since he’d left, right around when the strange twinges had started, but only about a day since he’d actually noticed his Earthly absence. Surely that wasn’t enough time to truly become concerned with the demon, was it?

But then again, the job should’ve been done by now. And usually they tried to report back to each other first before Heaven or Hell, so that way they could be on the same page. What miracles took place? What diabolically plans were carried out? It just seemed strange that he would’ve have shown back up yet.

He sighed, placing the tea kettle on the stove. If he hadn’t heard back from Crowley in the next couple of days then he would allow himself to go and look for him, but that was all. He would _not_ go early, because he was _not_ worried about him, nope not one bit.

He sighed again and took the kettle off the stove. He glanced at the clock sitting in the corner of the room and resisted the urge to sigh again. If he left right now, there would be a bus coming by, perfectly willing to take him to their assignment even though he didn’t have a bus ticket.

He glanced back one more time at the books he had planned on reading before grabbing his coat and hurrying out the door.

XXX

The guy was smart enough to avoid getting anywhere near the circle he had painted Crowley into. Not that Crowley could’ve done much even if he had, but it was still a point he sadly had to give the man. Most humans who tried to exorcism demons liked to lay hands on them, which usually ended up in _someone_ dead, just maybe not the demons they were trying to get rid of.

The main problem that Crowley could see with this whole “exorcism” is that while he hadn’t been obliterated or blown back into Hell yet, he also didn't go anywhere else. Instead, he sat inside the circle and chains that made him feel like he was slowly being turned into pudding. It wouldn’t kill him, not for at least another hundred years, but it was enough that it left him feeling weak and without anything to do.

“How long have you possessed this body?” the man asked.

“Well, not counting the times I’ve discorporated, about six thousands years give or take a few. I’m quite fond of it.”

His eyes ran up and down Crowley, no doubt trying to see any traces of the fact that his body was actually that old. Humans always seemed to have strange standards set in how they believed beings should be.

“I don’t doubt that you’ve been possessing it for a long time, but how long has it _actually_ been,” the man said.

Crowley rolled his eyes. “I’m not possessing it. It’s mine.”

He shook his head. “No. I know demons lie. I know that they can possess bodies for years at a time, but I seriously doubt that you could’ve lasted six thousand years in the same one.”

Crowley cocked his head to the side, squinting at the man. It was almost hard to see him from this distance, like he had suddenly become nearsighted. The sigils on the floor must have been blocking more than just his occult senses then.

“How do you know so much about demons?” He wiggled his fingers, cutting off the man. “I know, I know, demons and your son and what not, but seriously? Where are you getting all of your information? And what made you think that I was a demon?” Crowley liked to think that he was rather lowkey, even though he knew Aziraphale would disagree. 

“I got a tip,” he said. “A man warned me that a man matching you and your car’s description would be coming here soon. He said that you were up to no good, which he was obviously right about.” The man sniffed, as though he needed to turn his nose up at him. “I saw you running about every time there was something bad happening this last week. I also saw you stalking that family, probably just waiting for a chance to get them. Huh, Crawley?”

Crowley’s brows furrowed together. “Who the hell told-” he closed his eyes a cursed. “Hastur, you fucking bastard.”

Of course it was Hastur who had told the man about him. Hastur couldn’t stand him and loved to watch things go to complete and utter dog shit around him. He was also one of the only beings left in existence who still referred to him as Crawley with any sort of regularity.

“He seemed very concerned about the person you’re possessing.”

“I’m sure he did,” Crowley said, plastering on a tight smile.

It had been a long time since Hastur had messed with him like this. There was one time where he’d been assigned the mission of claiming miners’ souls and Hastur had repeatedly caused cave-ins wherever he was stationed. Thankfully, Crowley had managed to bang on the walls a few times before the cave-ins happened to save some people, but his own body hadn’t been so lucky. Beelzebub had been particularly annoyed with him then, although it didn’t last long. Causing people fear or annoyance and creating a whole new creature mythos had pleased her greatly.

He figured they’d moved past this kind of shit, although he also figured he should have known better. There was no end to the kind of torment Hastur could deliver if he wanted to.

Crowley didn’t point out that Hastur or at least other demons like Hastur were likely behind his son’s possession if he had in fact been possessed. Humans didn’t tend to like being told things that involved common sense or reason.

He glanced around the rest of the room, hoping that there might be something to help get him out or at least tell him where he was. The lunatic could’ve taken him anywhere after knocking him out he realized.

The room seemed to be pretty bare aside from the chair Crowley was sitting in, the desk the man kept leaning against, and the chair behind the desk. There were no windows in there, with the light only coming from some of the candles that were sitting on the desk. It seemed a tad dramatic if Crowley were honest, but then again he usually did have a flair for the dramatic and it didn’t get much more dramatic than an exorcism.

He wondered what time it was. How long had he been asleep for? And how long did this man exactly plan on hanging around here for? Didn’t humans usually need to eat or sleep or take a piss every so often? Surely he couldn’t plan on hanging around for too long if that was the case.

“This should be enough to get us started,” the man said. He’d been moving through the drawers and had finally settled on something. 

It was sage. He held it out in front of him like Crowley should be terrified of it just by the mere presence of it. And if he had been a younger demon and newer to Earth, he might have been.

“Sage?” Crowley asked, a disbelieving laugh bubbling in the back of his throat. This man really thought he was going to get rid of him with _sage_ of all things for Satan’s sake, as if this were somehow his first go at walking on Earth.

“Is that really the best you can do? What, next you’re going to chant God at me or something. Maybe Jesus?” he said. 

The man did seem a bit surprised at Crowley name-dropping God, but was otherwise neutral about it. He picked up one of the candles and carried it over towards Crowley, placing it right on the edge of the circle.

He held the sage above the flame like it was a threat, which Crowley supposed it was intended to be.

“Like I said, just to get us started.”

The man dropped the sage into the flame, which quickly consumed the dry and brittle plant. Smoke immediately began to filter into the air, filling it with the thick scent of sage. It wasn’t particularly painful like most people associated with sage burning and demons, but it was strong. Far stronger than he’d felt sage in a long time.

The smoke seemed to be sucked into the circle Crowley was trapped in, thickening the air as he breathed. Normally, his body didn’t need to breathe, but he did feel as though he needed to expel the smoke from his lungs and fill them with fresh air.

But there wasn’t any. All that existed was smoke.

“This sage was grown specifically for this purpose,” the man said. “I even had it blessed before beginning this process.”

Well that explained it.

He glared at the man through watery eyes, refusing to show how badly it was bothering him. Right now it wasn’t anything worse than sitting next to someone smoking in public, but who knows how long it would be before it started to get worse.

The man dropped another piece of sage onto another candle and walked behind Crowley. The sound of metal on metal came to him and light filtered into the room, almost blindingly. A second later the sound was back and the light was gone.

All Crowley could do was glare at the sage and hoped it went away soon enough.

XXX

 

The sage did not go away, despite the hopes that Crowley had had. Even after the smoke had dissipated it left him feeling weak and sick, like he’d been stuck in a washing machine and turned on high.

Normal sage usually wasn’t enough to make him feel this bad. Sick and maybe give him a headache, sure, but not like this. This was something he hadn’t felt in a long time. Not since the Fall.

Which was just crazy talk, as he was clearly already a demon, and there was no where else to Fall to after that. Yet it felt like it, as though he was being drained of everything that made him a demon, everything that made him _him_ now.

He’d glare at something, anything really, if he had the strength to lift his head. Instead he settled on glaring internally, cursing himself, Hastur, and every other stupid decision that had led to this moment in time.

At least it was him stuck here. He could hardly imagine what would have happened if it had been Aziraphale. He was too nice for his own good and Crowley feared that it would get him killed one day.

But sage didn’t bother angels and neither did Holy Water. He doubted that the circle around him would’ve held him either, although there certainly were circles to hold angels.

Still, he stood by his opinion. It would have been worse for Aziraphale to have been here.

Not that he would mind seeing the angel at this point. Anything that might be able to get him out of here was a welcome relief.

There was a cracking sound like gravel being dragged against itself. He didn’t even bother trying to look up, as he already knew what that sound was.

“Wow,” Hastur’s voice said. “A human who actually listens for once.” He could hear Hastur step closer, likely admiring the human’s work without getting close enough to get trapped in it himself. 

_“Hassstur,_ ” Crowley said. He’d tried to sound intimidating or even half as pissed off as he was, but all he sounded was weak.

“I didn’t think he’d actually listen to everything,” Hastur said. He glanced towards the faintly smoking remains of sage and shuddered. “Smarter than most humans, too.”

“Yeah, he’s a real peach,” Crowley said. He forced his head to look up, doing his damndest to make eye contact with the demon across the room. “Now let me go.”

Hastur laughed, sounding far closer to a hysterical man screaming. “Let you go? Why would I do that? That would be _helpful_ , and demons aren’t _helpful_.”

Crowley growled at him. “Fuck you, Hastur,” he said, pratically spitting. He tried to move even just one of his arms, anything that might allow him to strike out at Hastur, but still he was held in place.

Hastur laughed again. “I’ll be sure to let Beelzebub know how things are going topside for you. And good luck with what the human’s got planned next.”

And with that he disappeared again, dragging himself back to Hell.

He growled again. Whenever he got free he was going to use the frog on Hastur’s head to make grenouilles. It would serve him right, after all.

The room was quiet, too quiet from Crowley’s liking. Usually, he enjoyed peace and quiet, as it was much better than the loud ruckus that Hell normally was, but this quiet gave him a deep seated feeling of anxiety. It was like “last being on Earth” quiet, not the regular alone sort of quiet. It seemed as if no sound was coming through from outside the room he was held in or into the circle where he was sitting.

It wasn’t much longer until the human returned, however. The lighting didn’t change much inside the room despite the metal sounds, which told Crowley that it was likely dark outside now. Just how long had he been here?

There was a bag slung at the man’s side, swaying back and forth as he entered the room. He crept around Crowley’s form, leaning close to the circle to get a good look at his face. The demon glared at him, hoping that the man could feel all the hate and fury he was currently feeling.

If he could he didn’t show it. Instead he leaned back, his hands fidgeting at his side again. “Right, okay. So the sage didn’t purge you completely. Not that I had planned on it doing so, but I had hoped.” He set the bag down on the desk in front of him and removed a towel and what appeared to be a bottle of Holy Water.

“There’s not a lot of Holy Water in here,” the man explained. “I only put a few drops in it, so it shouldn’t melt you.” He twisted the cap off of the bottle and poured a small bit into the towel. “I know that other people use more Holy Water, but I don’t want to seriously hurt the human you’re possessing.” 

It was like the man was talking to himself, trying to convince himself that he was doing what was right. Despite all of his feelings towards the man, Crowley did have to respect him for that at least.

Once the towel was wet enough for him, he stepped towards Crowley. He held it out in front of him, almost as though he intended to blindfold him. At the last second he moved his hands down and covered Crowley’s mouth with the towel.

Crowley screamed as soon as the Holy Water touched his skin. He could feel it blistering and scorching, but the man had been right. He wasn’t melting. Not yet anyways. There wasn’t enough water on there.

Thrashing didn’t do him any favors. If anything, it seemed to make the man press the towel harder over his face, forcing the water and fibers into him.

A few seconds later and the man had secured the towel in place, a tight knot at the back of his head making sure that it wasn’t going anywhere.

He dragged his chin across his shoulder, hoping to somehow loosen the towel from his face, but nothing worked. His screams were so muffled that they didn’t even sound like screams to him.

“I’m sorry,” the man said. And the thing was he really did sound sorry.

Not that it made Crowley feel any better. It didn’t take away the searing, burning pain that was on his face, nor the fact that it made it impossible to breathe.

His body technically didn’t need to breathe, he reminded himself. _You’re a demon from Hell, you don’t need to breathe fucking air._

But being a demon from Hell was the main part of the problem. 

His body wasn’t meant to be in direct contact with Holy Water. And every time he tried to breathe in, drops of Holy Water would come in as well, preventing him from taking a stabilizing breath.

It was like a terrible cycle. He’d scream, need to breathe, inhale Holy Water, and then the process would start all over again.

This was it. He was going to die because he couldn’t fucking breathe. There was too much water on the towel, and far too much of it Holy for him to last much longer.

He wondered what Aziraphale would think. He’d been so scared to let the demon anywhere near Holy Water, as he was afraid for what it would do to him. What would he say when he found out he’d been right all along and Crowley had drowned in it?

XXX

The ride to the town was surprisingly short for Aziraphale, although he did have to get out a ways away from the town and walk the rest of the way. Apparently Crowley had been very busy sabotaging motorists, which seemed to be his preferred way to mess with people. So that just left the question where was he? It wasn’t like him to disappear in the middle of this type of thing after all. Afterwards, when he was tired enough to sleep for a century, maybe, but not before saying goodbye to Aziraphale. He’d promised he wouldn’t do that again.

Which meant he was likely somewhere still in the town. It’s not like the place was very large anyways. Surely it couldn’t take too long for him to find him.

He walked through the town, looking at things that might have drawn the demon to them. The pub was a likely option, but it was closed due to the late hour. There was a floral shop that Crowley would more than likely loved, but there wasn’t a sigh of him there. Just as he was beginning to think it was going to be impossible to find even a trace of him, he felt it. A demonic presence in the area north of town. It didn’t feel like Crowley, as Crowley no longer felt like _just_ a demon anymore, but it was somewhere to start in any case.

There didn’t seem to be much on this side of town, though. The businesses had trailed off and given way to trees and the occasional house set far back from the road. He couldn’t imagine what would have drawn a demon out here. There were hardly enough people out here to making tempting worth it.

He almost missed it due to the gathering darkness, but there it was. The Bentley. Crowley’s pride and joy, the one thing he would never leave behind.

It was tucked up against the side of a storage unit, almost completely hidden from the road. If Aziraphale hadn’t been looking for it he probably would’ve missed it.

“Crowley?” Aziraphale asked. It was too dark to properly see, but he didn’t want to risk lighting up the area. He still couldn’t sense Crowley, although this seemed to be the area that the initial spike in demonic energy had come from.

He refused to admit how much that worried him. Despite all the things Aziraphale said about Crowley, he knew that the demon wasn’t like other demons. He cared for people and animals, he _enjoyed_ living on Earth, and not just tormenting people.

He cared for Aziraphale. And, while Aziraphale frequently tried to deny it to himself and even Crowley, he cared for him. The thought of other demons hanging around him gave him a sick feeling in his stomach.

The Bentley at least seemed to be fine. There didn’t seem to be anything out of place, other than the fact that Crowley was nowhere to be seen.

“Crowley!” he called out, a bit louder this time. Maybe he’d had to report his deeds and was just… relaxing at the storage unit. For some reason.

There was a sound that came, almost like an answer to him. He jumped, clearly startled by whatever it was. It had sounded so pained, like whatever it was was being lit on fire or something else equally horrible.

A glance around revealed no one else nearby. Not that that was going to stop him. Crowley was likely somewhere around there and if he was causing trouble, then it was Aziraphale’s sworn duty to stop him.

(And if the sound had been Crowley… well, Aziraphale didn’t want to think about it.)

It took a rather short amount of time for him to realize that the sound had been coming from inside the unit. He looked around and, not noticing anyone or any cameras that might catch him, snapped his fingers to open the garage door.

What he saw caused him to freeze in his tracks.

There was a man there, standing in front of someone who was tied to a chair. He was holding a bottle full of what Aziraphale could feel was Holy Water, and smoke was coming from several candles on the floor. 

It was also coming from the being who was tied to the chair.

“Crowley!?” Aziraphale shouted. 

The body in the chair flinched, although he wasn’t certain if that was because he had heard him or not. The man stared at Aziraphale, surprise and fear spread across his face. 

“Who are-” the man didn’t even have time to finish his sentence before Aziraphale snapped his fingers. Immediately, the man dropped to the ground, his body as limp as a noodle. Normally he’d wince at the sound the man made as he hit the ground, feeling at least a little bit bad for the pain he’d likely be in when he woke up.

But this wasn’t normal.

His legs were moving before he’d even told them to. He paused, just long enough to magically scuff the sigils on the circle holding Crowley before stepping inside of it with him. There was sage burning at their feet, which he promptly kicked away.

The sage was the least of his worries he soon realized.

“What did he do to you?” Aziraphale asked, reaching towards him.

Crowley’s eyes were unfocused, not even seeing Aziraphale. His chest was bobbing up and down, although there was no sound coming from him. The towel that was spread across his face seemed to be masking some serious burns as well.

“Hold on, my dear,” he said. It took him two seconds to get the chains undone, to which Crowley instantly fell forwards.

His arms, which didn’t seem to want to move correctly, were scrambling at his face. Aziraphale winced at the burns that appeared on his hands as soon as he touched the towel.

“Stop. Crowley, stop,” he said, holding his hands down away from his face. It would hardly do the demon any good if he just burned himself worse in the process.

As gently as he could, Aziraphale removed the towel. His entire being shuddered when he saw what was beneath.

There were burns, burns that could only be caused by Holy Water. None of them were deep enough to be lethal, obviously if they were Crowley would have been a puddle of goo by that point, but he was sure they were still painful.

The demon leaned over and was promptly sick. He groaned as he tried to breathe, his breaths nothing more than tiny gasps that didn’t seem to be able to get through. It was as though he was trying to breath through a mile long straw.

Fear clenched Aziraphale’s insides. He’d seen the demon sick before, they’d known each other long enough that that was almost inevitable, but he’d never seen him so sick from a Holy object before. That was a whole other level of sickness that Aziraphale didn’t know if he could handle.

“Can’t breathe,” Crowley said. He grabbed a hold of his own chest and Aziraphale’s at the same time, trying to force his legs to work under him. If he could get outside maybe, just maybe, he’d feel better.

“Right,” Aziraphale said. He wrapped one of Crowley’s arms around his shoulders and hauled the demon up to his full height. When it became obvious that he wasn’t going to be able to walk on his own he dragged him out.

“There we are, see?” Aziraphale said, sitting him down on the cool grass outside. There was dew gathering already, slicking Crowley’s backside as he laid him down. The moon was finally fully out, highlighting how pale Crowley was.

“See, we’re fine, we’re okay,” Aziraphale continued. He brushed Crowley’s hair back from his forehead, hoping it was at least slightly calming. He dropped his head low, placing his ear against Crowley’s chest. His lungs were taking small, raspy gasps now, but at least they were coming stronger than before.

“We’re gonna be just fine. You and me. Always fine,” he mumbled. Gently, he allowed one of his hands to graze against the burns on the bottom half of his face. They would heal, most likely, but they would certainly take some time.

“You’ll be in tip top shape and annoying everyone soon enough.” It was disconcerting to not hear Crowley respond. The demon loved to talk, even if Aziraphale wasn’t listening.

He rambled on, giving the demon reassurances the whole time. There was no way to tell if he could even hear him, but he wasn’t going to take the chance. The last thing he wanted the demon to think was that he was alone.

Because they were never alone, even when they sometimes wanted to be. They were a team, a pair, partnership. That was how The Arrangement worked best. They balanced each other out. He couldn’t imagine doing his life on Earth without Crowley.

His face flushed as he thought about that. It wasn’t proper for an angel to think that way, especially not about a demon. But, as Azirphale had noted before, Crowley wasn’t just a demon. Despite his better instincts, he considered Crowley his friend. And maybe, one day, something more. He didn’t know exactly what that _more_ entailed, but he was open and willing to whatever Crowley wanted…. Eventually.

“Angel?” Crowley asked. His voice was croaky and broken and _his_ and it made Aziraphale’s eyes water. “What are you doing here?”

“Yes, it’s me,” he said. He glanced back at the storage unit, making sure that the man was still unconscious. “Crowley, my dear, what happened here?”

Crowley coughed, spitting out a bit of blood and Holy Water. “Hastur happened. Bastard sold me out to a human for an exorcism.”

“What!?” Aziraphale asked. His body jumped, ready to smite the Duke of Hell if he was still around. What kind of being did that to a fellow being? He knew that Hastur and Crowley’d had a rivalry going on in the past, but he never thought that it would lead to _this_. There were lines you didn’t cross when you were on the same side!

“Don’t worry,” Crowley said. He tried to show his usual cheeky grin but it fell far below normal standards. “I’ve got a plan for him.”

“I do wish you’d end these pranks between each other,” Aziraphale admonished. “Look at where it got you!”

“I don’t start them, angel, I finish them!” Crowley said. His voice cut out halfway through though, leaving him hacking and coughing up the rest of the gross things in his throat.

He placed his hand on Crowley’s throat. He could feel the pain coming from it, sense how red and damaged the inside of it must be. 

It would just be a small miracle to help him on his recovery. It wouldn’t heal it by any means, as there was no way he could heal a Holy wound like that, but it would be enough to at least reduce some of Crowley’s discomfort.

Almost instantly, Crowley relaxed. “You’re going to get in trouble for those miracles, angel,” he said. His eyes were heavy, his lids drooping down.

“Saving an innocent person from being falsely exorcised,” Aziraphale said with a wave of his hand.

“Ha, just imagine. Me, innocent,” Crowley said. 

“Yes, well, it is a bit of a stretch,” Azirphale teased.

Crowley rolled his eyes before letting them drift shut. “No, no,” Aziraphale said, prodding his side. “We’ve got to get out of here before anyone else shows or he wakes up.”

A yellow eye opened. “I’m not exactly able to walk right now, Aziraphale.”

“How about riding?” Aziraphale asked. At Crowley’s raised eyebrow he helped lever him into a sitting position. 

“My car!” Crowley said. He glanced back and forth between the car and the unconscious man in the unit. “He drove my car!”

“Let’s go,” Aziraphale said, pulling the demon to his feet. He put his arm through Crowley’s and through a strange mix of dragging and marching led him towards the car.

“Oh, no, no, no,” Crowley said, attempting to dig his heels into the ground. The grass was still wet enough that his feet basically slid across the top of it. “I am _not_ sitting in the passenger’s seat.”

“You have to,” Aziraphale said. He opened the door and tried to force him into the car. “You’re injured and in no condition to drive.”

“Do you even know how to drive?” Crowley asked.

“Sure,” Aziraphale said, finally succeeding in getting him to sit down. “I used to drive carriages all the time. How different can it be?”

Azirphale allowed a small smile to come to his face as he heard Crowley start to beg. “Oh no, please angel. _Please._ Not my car. Anything but my _car_.”

“I’m just teasing you,” Aziraphale said. He shut the door as quickly as he could and hurried around to the driver’s side. “I swear, I’ll drive very, very carefully.”

Crowley, sensing that there was no way he could win this one, scooted down into his seat and pouted. “Fine,” he said. “But if anything happens to it, you’re fixing it.”

“Of course,” Aziraphale said. He started up the car and headed off towards London.

Someone would need to do something about the human that was kidnapping people he believed to be demons, and something would eventually need to be done about Hastur, but for right now having both of them sitting safely inside Crowley’s car was enough.

“You never did answer my question about what you were doing there,” Crowley said softly. It was obvious that he was doing everything possible to stay away despite how tired he was.

“Um, yes, well,” Aziraphale stuttered. “Uh, you see, I felt like something was wrong.”

“Wrong?”

“Yes, wrong,” Aziraphale said. “It was like you had disappeared from the Earth. And not how you usually do and I was… well, I wasn’t worried but I knew that it was strange so I thought I should investigate.”

Crowley smiled softly at Aziraphale. It looked wrong on him, the burns from his face seeming to stand out even more when he was making softer expressions.

The Bentley began to play a song from that band Crowley liked (Queen, Aziraphale knew it was called, although he’d never admit to knowing it) as they finally left the village. Despite Crowley’s initial problems with Azirapahle driving his car, he’d drifted off shortly after that, his body finally giving up.

He glanced out of the corner of his eye, thinking back to the smile Crowley had given him. He could feel his insides shift, something twisting and turning when he looked at him.

_Can anybody find me somebody to love?_

He glared at the radio, his face heating up in an instant. This car was going to be the death of him, he was sure of it. At least Crowley was asleep for it.

_I have spent all my years in believing you_  
But I just can't get no relief, Lord!  
Somebody (somebody) ooh somebody (somebody)  
Can anybody find me somebody to love? 

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from the brillant and lovely song For The Nights I Can't Remember by Hedley. It's just one of many on my writing playlist for these two! I actually had to cut this fic short because it was slowly turning into a huge monster of a fic, and I don't know if I'm ready to do one of those just yet. I quite like doing the smaller prompts like these!
> 
> As always you can find me over on tumblr as ahyperactivehero! Come scream about Good Omens with me!


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